


When the light came through

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Feels, Gay Robots, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Omnic Racism, Omnics, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 10:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *pre-relationship Genji/Zenyatta* Genji realises Zenyatta is not, in fact, impervious to harm.





	When the light came through

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write some h/c but i got somewhat sidetracked? I guess? I just wanted a break from my long fic for a bit to collect some thoughts. :P

**When the light came through**

The town was small, but nice.

Zenyatta and Genji had arrived there in the early morning thanks to a helpful driver who had seen them walking as he drove by and had picked them up even though they were nowhere near one of his bus stops.

Dusty from their walking, having been on the road for days now, Zenyatta and Genji had been grateful for the lift, watching the tilt of the woods around them as they climbed up the hill towards the town on top of it.

The place was cradled in-between the mountains, in a pleasant valley that got a lot of sun, and while it looked rather old, with painted walls and nice looking gardens full of flowers, Genji noticed a lot of signs of technology, from the drones cleaning up debris from a nearby construction site to a few new car models, the kind that had anti-gravitational pulls in the engine for extra mobility.

He’d seen his fair share of modern cities in the course of his life, but ever since meeting Zenyatta, Genji had learned there were so many small pockets of the world where time still seemed to tick slower, allowing the past to shine through, and this town was one of them.

“My, it feels like nothing has changed since the last time I was here!” Zenyatta clapped his hands together, sounding appeased. “It has been years… and now I am back with you by my side, my student.”

Genji smiled a little under his mask, warmth spreading from his chest at Zenyatta’s honest glee. “I am glad to be here as well, my master,” he answered, voice soft but pleased. “How long ago was it?”

“I was travelling with Mondatta at the time, we took a detour in order to spread the Shambali message. It was… oh dear, almost six years ago.”

“I was still with BlackWatch then,” Genji looked around, tempted to slide his helmet off to have a better look at the town, yet he refrained –too many people around them, a lot of which were far too curious about the newcomers. “It truly was a long time ago.”

For a moment, Genji did not notice Zenyatta had stopped looking around to stare at him instead, and when he did, he tilted his head to the side. “Is there something wrong, master?”

“… no, it just warms my core to hear you mention so casually the time you spent with your former organization, that is all.”

Genji stuttered, the lights on his armour flickering briefly, and he ducked his head, looking away from Zenyatta to stare at the town once again, though he was aware that Zenyatta had yet to stop staring. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, nor was it unfamiliar, but it still made him feel weirdly focused, anchored to the present, in a way he could not understand.

At times, it made him wish to ask –what did Zenyatta see, when he looked at him?– but something stopped him, made him hesitate. Zenyatta was honest, direct and open, and Genji was not sure he could take whatever answer he would receive… at least not yet.

Maybe one day.

“Well then!” Zenyatta seemed to rouse himself, voice warm and full of anticipation. “It is still rather early, but perhaps we should search for a place for you to eat. I do remember there was a nice restaurant somewhere nearby…”

***

Zenyatta walked past a nice little shop, displaying different kinds of shoes and boots, and looked around.

The restaurant was, sadly, not where he remembered –now there was a rather large flower shop, tended by a nice lady and an omnic, and while the flowers and plants were gorgeous, still needed to eat.

Genji had tried down the road towards the main plaza, promising Zenyatta to come back if he found a nice place, and as Zenyatta turned around to look he could not see him anymore, lost somewhere behind a nice water fountain and some parked cars down the road.

As he passed by a bookshop, he almost bumped into a tall man who had been perusing the newspaper rack; he narrowly avoided an elbow to the side, and as Zenyatta hastily moved out of the way, he could feel the man’s glare follow him as he walked away.

The weight of the stare was not unfamiliar, but it _stung_ , in a way Zenyatta knew would never truly go away, no matter how long he meditated and worked on bridging the gap between humans and omnics.

Zenyatta sighed, accepting the Discord he could feel within himself and letting go of it, finding his balance once again. He could not create acceptance from nothing, but he would do his best to nurture it, regardless.

Tiny steps. He was but one omnic and yet Zenyatta had hope in his core, and time, to look forwards to a future where that stare, that hatred, would disappear.

Focusing once again on his surroundings, Zenyatta pondered where to go.

The road narrowed and split in three, and Zenyatta’s forehead array blinked as he decided which way to go. On the right, he could see row after row of residential houses, all painted white and with small gardens on their front, flowers curling around tall, metallic fences. In the middle the road seemed to curve into the back of an alley, while on the left there was a bookstore, and ahead of that, a small café.

Nodding to himself, Zenyatta hummed deep in his synth, satisfied. A café would be enough, and they could continue looking for a restaurant or something similar for Genji’s dinner–

Something smashed into the back of his head, so sudden he had no time to notice the blow coming.

Zenyatta stumbled forwards, orbs rolling down the curve of his neck, the connection with them disrupted, and dropped down on the ground at his feet as he fell on his knees.

“–pid fucker omnic–” his auricular receptors fizzled on and off, and his processors filtered a fragment of someone’s voice, but Zenyatta found, much to his dislike, that he could not focus.

Pain flared from the back of his head, several wires ripped out of their sockets by the blow, sensors going high-wire, but…

His synth crackled, hands resting on the ground in front of him, optical receptors fuzzy and blurry.

He could not stand up, something was… wrong with his balance. The hit had…

Alerts flashed past his vision, red against the grey of the asphalt in front of him as footsteps faded into the distance.

Through the pain, Zenyatta found himself trembling, thoughts scattered for a few long seconds, his mind blank.

Distantly, Zenyatta realised the situation –he had been attacked, though there was no follow up, just one hit, like the person, the man, had decided to simply give him a ‘warning’ and then leave– but it was difficult to think clearly, and he felt something wet trickle down his back, alerting some of the sensors down his spine.

Something was wrong–

Hands shaking, Zenyatta tried to run diagnostics, but he found he could not read them, his brain processes faltering.

It hurt. The pain was like a dull, throbbing sensation that radiated from the back of his head to his shoulders, to his optical receptors and down to his neck.

Slowly, Zenyatta lifted one hand away from the ground. It shook, halting and falling back down when he tilted to the side, balance compromised by that simple movement, but then he tried again, the order sent twice before his arm moved again; it lifted up in curt, jumpy bouts, attempting to reach the back of his head, but he could not coordinate it enough to get there, to check…

–check–

He was hurt, and in danger. He could not do anything, nor ask for help.

Zenyatta felt a lick of panic curl inside his core, and he could not control it, stomp it down like he would otherwise, thoughts too scrambled to be able to collect himself.

He needed to move. Go somewhere –curl up in a corner. Safe, away from anyone else. Hidden from sight. Primary directive was to run, and it was not the first time this had happened to him. If he could sit somewhere, let his systems reorganize, filter through the damage enough to start repairs, then he could… he could…

Zenyatta stumbled forwards a little, servos making weak, pathetic grinding sounds as he looked up, blurry optical receptors zeroing on the inviting alley in front of him, recognizing it as safe.

Hide away, wait it out. Protect himself from danger. Recover.

Then, a thought stopped him, and Zenyatta’s arms almost gave up under him.

Genji was waiting for him, and that made… things different. He could not wait it out –it could take… hours. Days. Curled up in an alley until his thoughts were working again, enough for him to heal himself. Alone.

But he was not alone. There was Genji. He would worry.

He had to go back.

With hesitant, unsure movements, Zenyatta attempted to stand up.

***

There was something incredibly calming in sitting in the sun.

Genji had found a restaurant, tucked neatly between a seamstress and a hardware shop, but one of the omnic waiters told him they were still cleaning up and would not be open for at least thirty more minutes, so rather than make his hasty return to Zenyatta’s side to tell him about this, Genji took his time.

He had been travelling with Zenyatta for around six months –so little, in comparison to the time they had spent at the monastery in Nepal, and to the time Genji had spent with Blackwatch before that– but he could not get enough of this… the feeling of freedom he felt, travelling to see things with Zenyatta at his side, every day making Genji feel a little better, a little happier.

Part of it was, perhaps, due to the feelings he harboured, new and precious, the love that had blossomed so easily, making it so easy for Genji to follow Zenyatta when he’d left the Shambali, but Genji knew that he would feel the same even if he had not fallen in love with Zenyatta.

One day, perhaps, he would tell him. Cross this last boundary, bare his heart to Zenyatta the way he’d already bared his soul to him.

The town was indeed as beautiful as Zenyatta had promised, quiet and secluded in a pleasant way, and Genji allowed himself to think of himself six years in the past, and how he would have been unable to enjoy the air, the sun, the company, let alone the place itself. Yet, now he could.

Many things had changed, enough that he felt he had the right to go slow, enjoy himself, enjoy the world, and Zenyatta’s company.

Even this –simply sitting outside the restaurant, feeling the warmth of the sun on his body, observing the view… every little thing was almost a blessing.

Still, there was something lacking in this lull, and Genji knew what it was –he was meant to share this moment with Zenyatta, and by himself, while nice, Genji could not quite enjoy himself as much.

He stood up, stretching his limbs slowly, and observed the street, eyes flicking from head to head, seeking the familiar pattern of Zenyatta’s forehead array, yet he could not see him. If he was still searching, it was Genji’s duty to find him and drag him back to the main plaza so they could sit together and enjoy the sun.

Whistling to himself, Genji walked back up the street to where he and Zenyatta had split up; it was almost midday, and most shops were closing down, so the streets were empty, the area quiet if not for a few chirping birds on a nearby balcony.

Maybe he could get Zenyatta to tell him more about his previous trip to this town, or they could revisit some of the places he’d seen before with Mondatta, and maybe–

Zenyatta stumbled into view, unsteadily slumped against the wall of a house.

“Mast–” Genji’s voice choked into silence.

It seemed like Genji’s attempt to call for him had startled Zenyatta, because his head jerked up, though not all the way through, as if he had trouble keeping it straight, and Genji’s eyes caught sight of something red lolling from the back of his head.

“G––––en…ji?”

Something inside Genji’s chest lurched at hearing his name drawled out in such a way, panic flooding him like a cold wave.

Zenyatta’s voice cracked with static, and as he stared, completely frozen, Zenyatta took a hesitant, misplaced step, one shoulder pressed into the wall at his left, the only thing that was keeping him upright, and Zenyatta tried to lift his arm –in greeting, or seeking help, Genji did not know, but his fingers were shaking, little small, aborted jolts.

“Master…?” still frozen in place, Genji felt like someone had punched him in the guts, robbing him of his breath.

Zenyatta’s forehead array flickered, and he took another tentative step, trying to move away from the wall, to reach for him, only to stumble and Genji watched as Zenyatta started to fall, slipping away from the wall and onto the ground and–

Genji got there first.

Adrenaline rushing inside him, he moved even before Zenyatta completed his faulty movement, catching him in his arms and cradling him close, one arm around his shoulder and one hand supporting the back of his head. “Master?!”

He felt Zenyatta’s hands twitch and attempt to curl on his chest plate, he felt something wet over his fingers, he felt Zenyatta’s weight against him, heavy and almost unresponsive.

“I’m glad… you’re here.” And then Zenyatta went limp against him, forehead array powering down.

For a few long, painful seconds, Genji felt nothing.

There was a hole somewhere in his chest, heavy and empty, and it seemed to expand with every second passing by, so cold not even the sun on his armour could warm him, and then a horrid, disgusting thought filled his mind, washing away the emptiness in a sudden soundless scream–

_He’s dead._

Panic flooded him like a punch, and Genji, almost faint, stumbled a little under Zenyatta’s unresponsive weight, only to hear, softly, the sound of Zenyatta’s system whirring inside his chassis, his fans still working, barely louder than Genji’s own frantic heartbeat.

No. He was not dead, but he was–

Genji moved instinctively, Zenyatta’s body cradled in his arms, limbs dangling awkwardly, and he shifted away from the main road, eyes darting everywhere until he noticed a small alley tucked between two buildings, hurrying out of sight, his instincts screaming at him.

It took him a few seconds just to settle Zenyatta down on the ground, frantic yet unwilling to part from him, even an inch, but there was a greater part of Genji that worked well under pressure, even when most of his mind was still busy panicking.

Hands checked the extent of the damage –severed wires on the back of Zenyatta’s head, some of them dislodged and crackling with electricity, and one of them was oozing thick, dark liquid down Zenyatta’s spine. Genji’s fingers were wet with it, but the colour was off –it was not black, nor red. It was not blood, even if it felt similar, and it was different enough that Genji could keep himself together.

Fumbling, he attempted to reconnect the damaged wires, but his hand was shaky and they would not stay in place, so he had to give up, sitting on the ground and tugging Zenyatta’s lither frame on his lap, holding him close.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against the edge of Zenyatta’s auricular sensor, though he knew Zenyatta could not hear him. “I’m sorry I left you alone, I’m–”

The words stumbled out of his mouth, too loud in the silence, as loud as his own harsh breathing, and he felt almost chastised, biting down to keep the sounds in.

His shoulders were shaking, and he felt a knot in his throat that he could not swallow down.

This…

He’d never seen Zenyatta this vulnerable before. Even when he’d just met him, when he’d considered the omnic nothing but a frail, helpless monk, Genji had never seen him hurt, or wounded, or…

Not like this.

Zenyatta was always the strong one, who had opened his arms and accepted Genji, with all his faults and self-hatred and rage, and helped him leave all of that behind. Zenyatta had never been reduced to this, hurt in a way that left him helpless, and Genji felt like his world had been upturned.

That someone could hurt him like this –that something could make him falter and stumble and fall, something out of Genji’s control, was… frightening.

Something this small could take Zenyatta away from him.

He had no idea what had happened, who’d hurt Zenyatta like this, and he knew that if he focused on that, if he allowed himself to think about it, the rage would burn him whole, destroy what little soul Genji had left.

He could not.

Not as long as Zenyatta was like this, unconscious and hurt –Genji had to think about him.

He cradled Zenyatta’s motionless frame closer to his chest, his fingers damp with the oil still trickling out of the back of his head, though there was less now, and buried his helmet in the crook of Zenyatta’s neck, gritting his teeth and breathing through them.

“Please… be okay…”

***

It felt like hours later when a small movement made Genji freeze.

The shadows in the small alley had changed minutely, but Genji could not remember if any time had passed at all, lost in the depths of his mind, with Zenyatta clutched against his chest, like the only thing that kept him together.

At times, when he shifted a bit, Genji felt the anger resurface –not as searing as before, but still powerful, a resentment that settled in his bones and refused to leave.

If not for Zenyatta’s body in his arms, if not for the strong need to keep him safe, his inability to leave him even for a second, Genji would have allowed that anger to fester, burn in him as he sought revenge on whoever hurt his master, even if he did not know where to start, or how to find them.

Yet, he could not move, and it was difficult to focus on that anger when the dread and worry were far more prominent.

A soft click, then a shift in Zenyatta’s shoulders, and Genji’s eyes widened as he hesitantly shifted to look at Zenyatta’s face plate.

After a few, long seconds, the lower set of forehead array LED lights lit on.

“Master?!”

Silence. He could feel the hum of Zenyatta’s core, as they were still pressed together, and he could hear his fans whirring quietly, and then Zenyatta’s head tilted a little towards him, and his synth made a dissonant scraping sound.

“Please do not speak, master. You were hurt. Can you… can you hear me?” Genji could not let go of Zenyatta, not yet, but he put a little bit more space between them, afraid that Zenyatta’s optical receptors would not be able to put his face in focus. “Zenyatta…?”

No expression to read, no sounds, nothing, and Genji felt the cold press of panic trickle in his stomach again, worried thoughts fluttering like scared birds in his mind. What if Zenyatta could not speak anymore? What if he couldn’t move? What if he couldn’t _recognise him_? What–

Zenyatta’s hand was slack against Genji’s chest, but then he felt it move slightly, tapping against his chest, very softly, two times. “Master, do you need something, can I–”

Genji caught something sparkle with the corner of an eye, and his eyes widened when two of Zenyatta’s fingers lit up golden. It was not strong, the colour faded and weak, but he could feel a trickle of warmth penetrate through his armour and touch his heart, soothing a little of the panic.

For a second, Genji could not understand why Zenyatta would do this –and then it hit him. Though barely awake, and unable to speak, Zenyatta had recognized the discord within Genji, and instead of resting, he’d attempted to comfort _him_.

He had no words for the bittersweet feeling that filled him in that moment, as sharp as a blow, but it made him _ache_.

 “Master…” his tone was shaky, wet with unshed tears, and weak enough he was not sure Zenyatta could hear him, even this close.

Genji shifted his head closer, bumping his forehead against the cool surface of Zenyatta’s face plate, and exhaled softly, the barest touch of the Iris soothing a fraction of his worry, disbelief stronger than sorrow now that he knew Zenyatta was awake.

The warmth of the Iris did not last, fading away, but Genji felt… better, stronger with the thought that Zenyatta needed someone to care for him when he so obviously still put others before himself.

Genji was there. He had promised Mondatta, after all, that he would always be strong for Zenyatta.

At the time, he had not believed he would ever have to be –Zenyatta was strong, and reliable, and Genji had thought he would never be hurt, it was just impossible, but now…

But this was why he was there by his side. So that Genji could be Zenyatta’s strength, if the need arose.

“I am here, my master. I will make sure you are taken care of. Please rest now.” The words were still a bit shaky, but Zenyatta made a soft, quiet sound, like an artificial sigh, and Genji felt his head press against his chest.

He was not sure when Zenyatta fell unconscious again, but the soft hum of his core seemed a little stronger as Genji carefully held his master’s body against his chest and stood up, shifting the weight until he was sure he could walk while keeping Zenyatta safe.

Genji had no idea if there was anyone in town who could repair omnics, but he would not stop until he found one.

***

“You are an incredibly lucky omnic.”

The old woman shook her head, wiping a smudge of oil away from her cheek with one gloved hand. The creases around her mouth looked more pronounced with her frown, but her hands were steady, and her job impeccable.

Zenyatta exhaled an artificial sigh. “I suppose I am,” he murmured.

“The blow to your head was bad –it was strong enough to severe some contacts and wires that had been already damaged by wear and previous unfortunate circumstances, and it is why your balance was compromised,” the woman continued, as if he had not spoken. “Your model is equipped with simple nanomachines that were able to minimize the damage enough that I only had to do the minimum, but they cannot fix everything, and you need to keep them updated or they will not function as needed next time.”

Zenyatta nodded. “You have my thanks, miss Dora.”

The frown on the woman’s face did not change, and it actually deepened as she stared at him, her gaze sharp, then with a huff she turned to look at Genji, hovering at Zenyatta’s side. “You. You’ve been listening, right?”

“Yes–”

“Make sure he keeps his system updated and at an adequate condition to repair him. His nanomachines need to be tested frequently and if they underperform, they need to either be upgraded or replaced. This is not optional. Will you do it?”

“Of course!”

Zenyatta watched as Genji nodded, offering Dora a deep bow, even if one of his hands never strayed from Zenyatta’s shoulder, as if to reassure himself Zenyatta was fine.

When Zenyatta had powered up again, they were not in an alley anymore but in a quiet, somewhat clean room, Dora’s face staring down at him. Genji had never left his side, quickly explaining that while Zenyatta rested, he had searched the whole town for someone who could help, until a man had finally pointed him to the right person.

Dora was a mechanic, and while her knowledge on omnics was minimal, it had been enough to check on his progress and reassure Genji that Zenyatta only needed to rest and some extra oil to replace the amount he’d lost, but she had also expressed her worry about Zenyatta’s slowed down healing ability.

Zenyatta listened to her speak, but his focus was lacking –even if he’d just woken up, his body felt lethargic, probably because he was still repairing the damage done by the blow. At least, the pain was mostly gone, reduced to nothing more than a dull twinge every time some connector was rebuilt.

Genji waited until the woman had left them alone to turn and look at him, silent in a way that seemed almost tense, but Zenyatta’s battery was depleted enough he did not wish to strain to try and read into his emotions.

“Master… Zenyatta.” Genji lifted one hand, slowly, hesitating to reach out to Zenyatta. “I am glad you are… alright.”

Even if tired, Zenyatta did not need to focus to feel Genji’s turmoil. “Will you not let me see your face, Genji?”

Slowly, Genji unlatched his visor and helmet, sliding them off. His eyes were intense, the skin a little swollen and red, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“You have cried for me, Genji,” he murmured, softly, lifting one hand to caress Genji’s cheek. “Forgive me for making you worry.”

“I… master, I cannot remember the last time I have been this terrified before.” The earnest tone made Zenyatta jolt, just a little, Genji unable to look at him as he spoke. “I was so used to you being there, capable and strong, that I never considered the fact that you could be hurt, even if… I should have known better.”

“Oh, my dear… everyone can be harmed, and I am no exception. I wish you did not have to worry this much and yet, I am grateful you were there for me. Thank you, Genji.”

“I was afraid you were…” Genji could not finish what he wanted to say, but the meaning was clear.

Slowly Zenyatta raised both arms to wrap around Genji’s shoulders, tugging him closer, gently, until they were hugging, Genji’s head pressed into the crook of his neck, one of Zenyatta’s hands curled around the back of his neck.

This close, Genji could feel the quiet hum of Zenyatta’s core, his chassis warm to the touch, and it reassured him, once again, that Zenyatta was alive, and well.

It was not the first time Genji had been hugged by Zenyatta, but somehow it felt different now. Genji could not shake the memory of Zenyatta unconscious in his arms, smaller, almost frail, whereas before he had always seemed impervious to harm, somehow. Even when people hurled insults at him, Zenyatta still remained calm, unruffled. When one lifted a hand at him, he never faltered, facing danger with a steadiness Genji envied him.

Not that Genji thought Zenyatta was invincible, before, but…

Frustrated with himself, unsettled by seeing Zenyatta in such a situation, Genji fought against another wave of panic, squeezing his eyes shut.

It was weird to realise that the omnic who’d guided Genji down a path of healing, who had helped him find himself again, who’s always seemed approachable but above harm, could be hurt. Not just weird, it was… _frightening_.

All of sudden, Genji had realised that something, _anything_ , could take Zenyatta away from him.

He was alive now, functional, intact, unhurt, but… but…

Genji shifted, reluctant to leave the comfort of Zenyatta’s arms, and Zenyatta allowed him to go, tilting his head to the side.

There were new signs of wear on Zenyatta’s faceplate, a few scrapes on his shoulders from where he’d dragged himself against the wall, but Genji could see further than this –the weariness in the way he held himself, tired, his forehead array dim.

He leaned forwards again, pressing their foreheads together, and Zenyatta’s hands moved to the back of his neck, gently massaging the connectors and sensors there, trying to get him to relax.

“I sense turmoil in your soul, Genji. I had not meant to worry you so.”

“I feared losing you, master. For something so stupid, because I was not there… and I felt so much anger. For a moment, I wanted to run ahead and find the person who hurt you, make sure they could hurt no one anymore, but…” he choked, just a little, and swallowed thickly.

How could he ever begin to explain how empty he had felt, how easily that rage could have swallowed him whole, and how Genji would have let it, if not for Zenyatta’s body in his arms, demanding his full attention?

“But you stayed instead.” Zenyatta hummed, deep in his synth, and then sighed, the sound weary and soft. “I am glad.”

Startled out of his mood, Genji blinked and jolted away from him. He could hear the fatigue in Zenyatta’s tone, and he chastised himself for not noticing earlier. “You are still tired, master. Please will you rest? This place is safe, and you need to recharge.”

“I know,” Zenyatta replied, a smile in his voice, but he did comply, testament of how tired he truly was, as usually he would not be as easy to convince as this. “Forgive me for worrying you, my dear.”

Genji exhaled slowly.

It took him a few seconds to speak up.

“No,” he said, and his tone was secure, determined. “This was a lesson I needed to learn.”

Zenyatta was safe now, but he _could_ be hurt.

And for Genji to find out now, go through this panic, this fear, but being able to help, have Zenyatta safe afterwards…

Genji knew that until now, he had been lucky. Lucky to have Zenyatta and luckier that nothing had happened to harm him, and he’d been so stupid in his belief when he knew how easily someone’s life could be upturned, having experienced it on his own skin.

Zenyatta shuffled back down on the thin mattress with measured movements, forehead array so dim it was almost gone, showing just how depleted his battery still was.

He sat down next to him, wondering if this was what Zenyatta had done with him, every time Genji had hurt himself during the time they’d spent at the monastery, caring for the mess Genji had been.

He wondered if he could ever manage to convey how grateful he was for Zenyatta’s constant presence, for his worry, for his care, and how scared he had been at the thought that something could take Zenyatta away from him.

“You should rest yourself,” Zenyatta murmured, startling him out of his train of thoughts. “Nothing good will come from allowing your thoughts to run down unpleasant paths.”

“The only unpleasant path is one you will not walk with me, master.”

“Well, I could still hover.”

“ _Master_ –”

He could not smile, but the amusement was clear nonetheless. “Yes, Genji?”

Despite everything, Genji snorted, reaching out to hold one of Zenyatta’s hands in his own. “There,” he said, in the same tone. “This should help me keep you close, so you will not wander too far.”

“Oh, but you assume I would rather walk on my own then linger by your side.” And there was something –a tinge of melancholy to his tone, maybe, soft but there, that made Genji _ache_. Then Zenyatta seemed to pause, the hum from his core stuttering, almost, like Zenyatta had caught himself. “Forgive an old omnic for babbling.”

“You are _not_ old, master.”

“So you say, simply because if I were to call myself old, then you would be _ancient_.”

“I’m _thirty-two_!”

“As I said… ancient.”

The quiet, huffy laughter escaped his lips without his consent, but it made him feel better –this banter, even with Zenyatta tired and recovering, made Genji feel like they were back to normal.

“I do not see you resting, Zenyatta.”

“The company proves far too enticing.”

“I will not leave.” And though Zenyatta had meant to be teasing, Genji’s words were uttered with as much conviction as he could, blunt yet true. “Rest. I will still be here when you wake. I promise.”

As he was still holding Zenyatta’s hand, Genji felt it tense in his grip, the twitch so minute he might have missed it if he was not as attuned to Zenyatta as he was, his senses heightened by worry.

“I know you will, Genji. Thank you.” And there was yet something else in Zenyatta’s voice, something that sounded almost…

He slipped into recharging mode almost too quickly, tired but trusting Genji, and he was left alone with his thoughts, all of them too big for him, daunting and heavy, but Zenyatta’s hand in his own was still grounding, and Genji could not help but wonder if he would be allowed to have this forever –minus, of course, the worry for Zenyatta’s safety.

The hand in his own was slack, relaxed, and Genji held onto it, one thumb caressing the smooth metallic curve of Zenyatta’s knuckles.

“I love you,” he murmured, and once the words were out of his lips, wrapping themselves in the air around them, thick and heavy with meaning, Genji knew he would never be able to take them back, even if Zenyatta could not hear him yet.

In the quiet of the room, with no other noise except the soft hum of Zenyatta’s core as he recharged and his system repaired itself, Genji remained awake, and waited.


End file.
